


Kneel

by gayumbrella



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But in a universe where women can be priests, Catholicism, Confession, F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Girl Direction, Religion Kink, Thoughts about purposely not eating enough, Thoughts about suicide, Vaginal Fingering, girl!Harry, girl!Louis, harry is a priest, praying during sex, thoughts about self harm, under-negotiated sex, who is still called Father Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22405222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayumbrella/pseuds/gayumbrella
Summary: This is a fleabag inspired fic in which Louis goes to confession to Father Harry who helps her let loose.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Kneel

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of very heavy and deals with some darker topics. But even though the sex isn't discussed properly before or during, it is meant to be completely censensual.

It’s Sunday morning and Louis stands outside the church shivering against the spring cold. The sun was so lovely that she insisted on leaving her coat in the car but now she regrets it. It’s still too early for sleeveless dresses without a coat. Her feet in her Sunday pumps aren’t doing much better either, she can barely feel them anymore. But she doesn’t want to leave yet, people are still standing around making pleasant after-church-chatter and crowding Father Harry, whom she would like to have a discreet word with.

So waiting and freezing it is until the most enduring chatters have finally left and Harry turns to her. “Mrs Tomlinson, I see you have outstood the Smiths - quite an accomplishment, I must say. Congratulations”, she chuckles. “But I’m assuming you want to talk to me?” Louis smiles gratefully at her. Father Harry insists on being called by her first name but would never dream of addressing anyone in her congregation by anything other than Mrs or Mr.

“Yes father, I was wondering if you had some time for confession? It’s alright if you don’t, I’ll just come for the regular ones”, Louis looks down embarrassedly. She hates asking people for favours. But luckily Father Harry smiles cheerfully, “of course, come in then.” She turns to open the door and lets Louis in again. Louis has to blink a few time to let her eyes get used to the near darkness after the bright sunlight outside. It’s so silent now, and a different kind of holy after all the people and songs and prayers have vanished.

Unintentionally Louis lowers her voice to a whisper, “shall I go in already?” Father Harry answers her in her normal loud mass voice, “yes and then I’ll be with you in a minute.” Louis makes her way through the rows of benches towards the confessional and keeps her head lowered. She isn’t here often outside of mass and it always feels like she is intruding. It’s God’s home after all and she doesn’t know if she is allowed to look at his pictures or statues or his son of course, even though she has eaten his flesh less than 15 minutes ago.

She opens the creaky door of the confessional and lets herself into the small, even darker room. But it’s not like she has to see, all she has to do is kneel on the tiny bench that always leaves her knees aching. But she is here to repent and a little pain seems appropriate. She kneels and faces the grid over the window that separates her from the priest trying to empty her head while she waits for Father Harry to return. She has done confession enough that she doesn’t have to anxiously repeat the words she is expected to say anymore like she used to when she was still a child. Now she just tries to wait as calmly as possible.

Through the heavy wood she can hear shoes clicking on the tiles and then the creaking of the door that leads into the room next to her. She listens to Father Harry settling into the chair and rustling with some paper. When she hears nothing else but silence coming from behind the window she gulps – that is something she hasn’t outgrown even with all her years of confessing, gathering the willpower to actually speak – and then she says the familiar words. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is five weeks since my last confession.”

She pauses, but of course only silence responds. One last deep breath, before she lays open her trespasses. There is something so extremely vulnerable and humiliating of admitting that you did wrong. It’s hard to admit that you’re not always a good person or maybe never at all and it’s even harder to tell someone this and bare your most personal thoughts. But Louis needs forgiveness and she isn’t really sure if she can deal with keeping the knowledge of her sins only to herself.

Louis closes her eyes and speaks. “Sometimes I doubt. I know He has made us the way He wants us to be and it is not our decision to alter our bodies or for how long our lives will last. But sometimes I want to burn tattoos all over my body until I don’t recognize a single cell anymore and sometimes I want to take a knife and just cut everything off that is too much and bleed to death thin and small. Sometimes I want to scratch my flesh off my bones and then there are days where I dream of getting into my car and driving so fast that I will crash into a tree or a wall, I don’t care, really.

And I don’t know what I am doing this all for. I don’t know why I have to get out of bed and to work and back home for the next sixty years or so and I don’t really want to. Some days I want to curse Him for what He did to me by creating the earth and humans and me, I didn’t ask for this!

I have also lied. I lie all the time. I say I have already eaten and I haven’t had anything since lunch the day before. I say I am fine and three hours before I have thought of going to the pharmacy to buy more pills. I lie so much I think no one knows me anymore. I couldn’t tell you the name of someone who truly knows what I am thinking.

I am sorry for all these sins and the sins of my past life.” Louis’ breathing has gone shallow. She doesn’t know when she has started to cry, but her cheeks are wet and itchy now. The silence feels like a cold blanket wrapping around her hot guilt but she is getting more and more anxious about what Father Harry is going to say. She doesn’t know if she wants to be told to do three Hail Marys or five paternosters. Through the window she can hear Harry take a deep breath but she is still hit by surprise when she finally hears her voice.

“Stand up and go before the altar. Kneel down there”, Louis hears her say. She doesn’t know what that means, that has never happened before, but she obeys and gets up from the bench. As expected her knees hurt and the first few steps through the door and into the church again feel weird. She foregoes bowing before the tabernacle, she is going to kneel before it and the alter after all. When she has reached the step where the altar boys normally stand Louis bows her still aching knees and kneels down on the cold stone. Her shoes cut into her heels and she is cold again.

The clicking of shoes tells her that Harry is following her. She turns her head to see if she is actually coming to her. Harry seems to have shed her chasuble and is only wearing the white collar under her black shirt. When Harry has reached her she kneels down next to her. Louis looks at her but Harry orders her to look forward. 

“I could tell you to do some prayers or to pray more in general to find back to God”, Harry says and then pauses. Her voice isn’t that of priest Harry anymore but rather the one she uses when she is talking outside of church to people of the congregation or when she jokes with Louis when they meet just for talks sometimes. “Or I could talk to you about how we all sometimes feel that way”, Harry continues only to pause again for a beat. And another. And another. “Or I could tell you to bend forward and to pull your skirt up and your knickers down.”

For a moment Louis is stunned but she knows Harry and she has learnt to trust her over the years that she has been priest in Louis’ church. So she bends over. And pulls up her skirt and then her knickers down. “Alright”, she hears Harry gulp, “and now spread your legs.” Harry’s voice has gone back to Father Harry’s, but Louis can feel Harry breathing next to her. Louis spreads her legs as far as she can with her knickers cutting into her thighs just above her knees. Her palms are cold on the church floor.

She feels Harry moving and then there’s a hand between her legs warm against her hot centre. Fingers are prodding at her entrance searching to find their way inside her. It is outrageous. She can see Jesus suffering on his cross when she looks up a bit while she lets a priest touch her where only her husband is permitted to touch. “Pray”, Harry commands and Louis doesn’t dare to not obey. “Our Father, who art in heaven”, Louis breathes as she feels Harry’s finger move into her. “Hallowed be thy name”, she continues and a second finger enters her.

Harry’s fingers go deeper until Louis feels her palm pressing flat against her. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done”, Louis prays and then she is stretched wide by Harry’s third finger. It hurts a bit and Louis still prays, “on earth as it is in heaven.” She tries not to whimper, “give us this day our daily bread”, as Harry’s finger spread inside of her. “And forgive us our trespasses”, she does whimper as Harry adds a fourth finger. It really hurts now, and her knees and arms do too, but she knows that she isn’t finished.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us”, she gets out and Harry begins to slightly move her fingers in and out of her. She feels too open and too fragile, so much guilt and fear and badness under her thin skin that might spill out and consume everything, even Jesus on his cross or his blood in the goblet and his flesh in the tabernacle, if she doesn’t watch out.

But she continues, “and lead us not into temptation.” Harry fucks her harder and Louis begs, “but deliver us from evil”, she cries now, “amen.” Harry fucks her through it, she seems to have removed two fingers so that only two are left inside of Louis but she is still hurting and cold. And she is crying big, fat tears that run down her cheeks and drop onto the floor where she can see Jesus reflect in them. 

She cries for a while, she doesn’t know for how long, until she calms down a bit. And Harry is still fucking her, slower now, but deep and it feels much warmer now. Maybe because Harry has moved closer to her and started to kiss her shoulders and back. It’s really lovely and Louis still cries, but it’s a different kind now. She hiccups as Harry pulls out her fingers and moves them through her folds to her clit.

It doesn’t take long, just a few gentle rubs and then Louis is coming. Her arms and legs are shaking and she has stopped crying to groan loudly. When she is finished her arms buckle and she falls but Harry supports her and drags her up in her lap where she pulls Louis’ knickers back up and her skirt down. Louis is exhausted, but she feels so light and relieved at the same time. She presses her face into Harry’s black shirt that smells of incense and church and closes her tired eyes.

Harry pets her hair with her hand that hasn’t been in Louis’ vagina and holds her close. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better”, she says now with her normal Harry-voice again. “You can always come and talk to me outside of confession if you feel like it. I’ll be there.”


End file.
